


hold me in your arms

by ghostsorpsychics



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Comforting Sam Winchester, Crying, Dean Winchester Deserves to be Happy, Fix-It, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, One Shot, Or tries, Self-Hatred, Swearing, fuck 15x20, i mean its kinda happy, no proofreading we die like chuck, you can thank the fifty spn analysis videos i watched for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:00:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29506572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostsorpsychics/pseuds/ghostsorpsychics
Summary: sam and dean talk about cas dying, and bringing him back.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	hold me in your arms

**Author's Note:**

> i meant for this to be more angsty than it is, but i guess the destiel honeymoon is too powerful.

It had only been a month. Since the last big showdown. Since he last saw Cas.

The world was free from the Chuck’s wrath, and Dean finally felt like he was in control of his own life. Or as much as anyone can chose their destiny. It helped that the universe wasn’t pushing them around anymore. So, the boys could pursue their own lives. Their own hopes.

Dean was looking at different jobs. Real ones with normal problems without a mortality rate of thirty-five. He had picked an application up and began filing it out before the last hunt. Just a simple ghost revenge. But even in the short time since Jack took over, their hunts had gotten fewer hunts than average.

It was almost like fifteen years before, when all this shit started. They grabbed hunts when they could and flew through those towns. Except crap couldn’t be more different. Sam was the one fighting to staying the game, while Dean felt like he could let go. But he couldn’t yet. Not after everything, no everyone he lost. He still felt the need to keep hunting for them. So, he could get revenge for them, even if there wasn’t any revenge left to fight for.

He found the jacket while looking for some papers. Dean had avoided looking at it ever since that day. The memory hurt too much, even if his hadn’t stained the fabric. He cradled the coat in his hands, like it was a sacred piece of fabric.

The pressure in his chest had gotten so tight, that he sunk to the floor. His knees pressed to his chest, and back to the foot of the bed. He choked on broken sobs as he stared at his last memory. He wanted to scream, and break shit. Burn everything. But he was too hurt. Destroying the few things he allowed himself wasn’t going to bring back his family.

Sam had been researching a possible case earlier. He’d gone to urge Dean to come with when he walked in. He noticed what Dean was holding onto, but not the tears racing down his face. Dean had his face turned and covered from Sam. And somehow it worked.

“Hey, I got another one.” He paused, trying to figure out why Dean was holding a blood-stained coat. “You really have to wash your laundry more often, Dean. We can’t go walking around with vamp blood stains, it’s not a badge of honor to regular folks.”

Dean wanted to tell Sam to fuck off, but instead he just choked out another sob. He pulled his hand away from his face. It was useless to try to hide his grief from his brother.

“Dean?” Sam finally processed that his brother was crying. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

He let out an almost harsh sigh. Usually he’d berate or glare at Sam for trying to get him to talk about his emotions. But he just needed to deal. So he nodded.

They stayed there for several minutes in silence. Sam understood that Dean would continue when he wanted. He took a couple deep breaths to steady himself. He looked over to Sam, who moved to stand against the wall in front of Dean.

“He…” Dean’s voice cracked with the first word. He wasn’t going to be able to talk without breaking down, so he tried to push through it. “He died because of me.”

Dean glanced up at Sam. He looked confused, not sure who he was talking about. Then he sees the jacket in his brother’s lap and remembers the last time he saw it. That last day, when the only thing Dean said to the two of them was “Cas is gone”. He slowly made the connection between Dean’s comment and the jacket.

“What do you mean, he sacrificed himself for the world.” His voice tried to be soft but came out confused. “He chose that, not you.”

Dean made choking noise. He shook his head like Sam misheard him. He gripped the memory in his hands tighter. “No, he didn’t.”

His voice gets flooded with anger, at himself. “We got backed into a corner.” How could he had let Cas sacrificed himself like that. “Billie on a rampage, and he came up with the only plan.” The anger was gone and became grief all over again. “Dumbass plan, never shoulda let him do it.”

Sam patiently watched him, waiting for him to fill in the gaps. But he just stared at the blood. Rubbing his thumbs over the fabric.

“What plan?”

“Never told me.” He mumbled. “Never woulda let him, if he did.” He released a broken chuckle. “Apparently he made some deal with the Empty a few years back. His soul insteada Jack’s.” Dean frowned as more tears streaked his face.

“I don’t get it,” he was trying to process the half story Dean was giving up. “If he made this deal that long ago, why’d the Empty collect now. How did that plan even work?” He knew there was more, but he also understood his brother’s willingness to talk about emotional shit.

“It had conditions, Cas said he had until his happiest moment.” Sam was stuck. Maybe there was a mistake. How could that plan work? What could he have been happy about almost dying at the end of the world? Dean watched Sam’s face, focused on figuring out the puzzle.

“Those are some shitty odds,” He says in a low confused tone. “But that still doesn’t make it your fault.”

Dean clenched his jaw. His brother never could blame Dean for anything. “Yes, it was.” All he feels is self-hatred. And Sam hears it.

_“Dean.”_ He warned.

“He loved me.” It comes out small. Sam almost doesn’t hear them. Except he does. And he had known Cas well enough to understand why that mattered. He whispered a small _I know_. “He died because he loved _me_.”

Sam watched his brother fall apart all at once. He heard the quiver in his voice as he struggled to speak. He was still missing some parts of the story, but he could connect the important pieces. Why Dean had seemed distant and short-fused more than usual. Why he hadn’t bothered to clean out the blood in his clothes, which was a simple routine to the boys by now. And why, even after a month, he is broken by the sight of a jacket. Sam didn’t know everything that happened in the bunker that day, and he didn’t need to.

That was clearly something that was only meant for Dean. If he needed to say it at another time, he’d let him talk about it.

But Dean was wrong. He might not have known what Cas said to him, or what happened between the two. He did understand what Dean was spiraling into. After all the traumas Sam goaded him into letting out, he knew what to expect.

“Dean,” He glared at Sam through the tears. Ready to argue against whatever optimist bullshit he used to comfort him. “You didn’t kill him.”

“Loving you might’ve been had him at his happiest, but that doesn’t make it your fault. The empty is what killed ‘im.”

Dean let out a rough sigh. He wouldn’t believe Sam’s words even if he repeated them every second of the day. At each word, his self-hatred is rationalizing what he already believes. That he tricked Cas into loving him. How selfish of him. Even after all those kind words Cas told him, seeing someone die for him like that. How could that ever be okay?

He clutched the jacket tighter. Sometimes he wished the Empty swallowed him up too. He was right there, and hell knows he was just as much a cosmic nuisance as Death.

“It just ain’t fair.” He sniffled and wiped his nose to regain some control of his state.

“Why’d you never ask?” Sam changed the direction of the conversation. Aware that anything he could say to Dean, he wouldn’t be ready to accept, maybe for years. Instead, he wanted to help him actively move on. “We could get him back. Hell knows we don’t got anything else to do.”

“That’s it, Sam.” Dean says exasperated. “That was supposed to be it. Gank Chuck, and take back our lives. Not like this.”

“Dean, we can bring him back.” Sam sighs, “I mean, we’d have Jack on our side this time.”

He did. Honestly Dean wanted Cas back, here beside him. Real flesh, blood, and angelic grace. But would it work? There was no question Dean would burn the world again just to fix it. But he was so exhausted of fighting all the time.

“I want him back, Sammy.” His voice was softer, worn out. “I do, but I can’t keep doing this. We keep bringing on apocalypses just to bring our people back, and if we do this. I don’t see a way out.”

“I understand, Dean. But that was Chuck. We weren’t the ones bringing on the end of the world with our choices, he was. He used our devotion to control our lives.” He’s getting passionate, using that tone Dean sees a leader in. “Jack, he’s different. You raised him better.”

He smiles, remembering the boy before. He knows Sam’s right. Jack’s his kid, so he knows he’s a good God. But he’s so goddamn young. Dean doesn’t want to risk his kid’s life again by pissing off the forces of the universe.

“I wanna try. But things gotta be different this time.” Dean decided its time. “I can’t keep doing this. If this works or not, I want to get old and wrinkly. This life ain’t gonna get me that. And I know that you’ve found your place in this life after all this time. I want to believe you can make it, but I won’t. If I keep at it, I’ll end up in an early grave.”

Sam took a moment to take in what Dean meant. He’d listened to Dean pray for retirement for years. But that was the first time he really believed that he meant it. For years, they’d thought Sam was turning every corner for a way out. But he didn’t need one anymore. Dean was right, he got his place. And he wanted to keep making a name for himself in this life. He wasn’t sure what that meant for Dean.

“I respect that,” He said, needing to talk through his thoughts. “I’m not sure how, but we’ll make it work.”

“Thanks, man.” Dean whispers. “So, you still need help with that case?”

“You sure? I mean weren’t you just saying you’re done.” He teases.

“Shut up, Sammy. I can handle whatever run of the mill case you caught.”

They both chuckle for a moment. Dean looked down at the jacket and smiled at the hope it brought him. He still felt the grief that crushed his throat, but he had a chance. He wasn’t going to let it go this time.

Sam held out his hand for Dean. He gripped it as they pulled themselves off the floor.

“I think we should call him before we go,” Sam added. He looked towards Dean to see him nodding. He sighed as he started a prayer. “Jack.”

Not a moment passes after he calls before he’s standing in the doorway. He looked exactly like he did when the brothers saw him last.

“Hello Dean. Sam” He spoke. He gave them his sweet smile and tightened his shoulders like an excited child.

Dean cleared his throat. Ready to plead with his kid, but Jack stopped him.

"I know." 


End file.
